


And I Will Try To Fix You

by shanewantstobattle, TrappedInSonder



Category: Marvel, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Charles Goes Into Erik's Mind, Charles Worries About Erik, Charles Xavier Loves Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Charles uses His Powers, Cherik - Freeform, Cuba, Defensive Erik, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Lehnsherr Has Issues, Erik Lehnsherr Has a Crush, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr Past, Erik Lehnsherr is not a Happy Bunny, Erik Regrets, Erik is broken, Erik's Memories, Fix-It, Holocaust Survivor Erik Lehnsherr, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Hurt Erik Lehnsherr, Implied Relationships, M/M, Memories, Mental Breakdown, Mental Chains, Mental Instability, Mutant Powers, Mutual Pining, NonCon Mental Breech, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past hurt, Pining, Poor Erik, Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past, Psylocks, Telepathy, Young Erik Lehnsherr, mentioned torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanewantstobattle/pseuds/shanewantstobattle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrappedInSonder/pseuds/TrappedInSonder
Summary: Erik runs after the events in D.C. It's what he's always done. But what happens when, after a brief stop in New York, he gets an unannounced visit and is plunged into something much bigger than he can handle?
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	And I Will Try To Fix You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies! Shane and Sonder here to say thank you for reading this fic! We put a lot of effort into this and though it may not be exactly how Charles' power works, we decided to take it and break it down into something a bit more visual! We hope you like it and as always, please do leave kudos and comments! We love hearing what you have to say!
> 
> And as always, the following characters are written by the corresponding writer:
> 
> Erik : Sonder  
> Charles : Shane

It had been like this for a long while. Country hopping, from America to Canada to Poland, Germany, France and then Mexico, hiding out in hotels, taking his time away from the world after the stunt he’d pulled in Washington D.C. It’d made the news all across the globe in a matter of days since it had happened, but still, Erik had managed to keep a low profile. Somehow. He’d always been good at hiding.

Even better at blending in. 

Still, It was a rather pleasant experience, jumping from place to place, every week new clueless faces, new normal interactions with normal people. Occasionally there were the odd looks or confused glances but for the most part, he managed to disappear before the suspicions could be acted upon. And hotel rooms weren’t all too bad either. Nothing he wasn’t used to, of course. It was all a good distraction. A good drift back into what it was like before he and Charles had first met. Before the sentinels, before the pentagon. Before JFK and before Cuba. When it was just him alone on the solitary journey for revenge. Before Erik destroyed the lives of everyone else around him, as well as his own. Ruining his chances for happiness and decimating everyone else's, too. Before everything got so…

Complicated. 

Now, he found himself back in New York, reclined on the generous queen-sized mattress, pillows propped behind him to support the curve of his back, angling him just enough so he could watch the TV while every now and again glancing to the wooden cabinet just off to the right, listening for the click as the kettle boiled. It was no luxury five-star hotel - Erik would never allow himself such a luxury- but it would do the job he needed. A week here and then a week in the neighbouring state to continue his directionless tour across the world. The paint was years old, what was supposed to be a gentle peach colour was desaturated by the constant rays of sunlight that occasionally streamed through the opposing wall of windows. The view was alright from his fourth-floor room, though Erik wasn’t even slightly interested in that. The room was fairly large and the mattress still held the wound springs inside, so that was enough for him. The TV wasn’t particularly large, though it did the job, anchored to the wall across from the bed. 

Besides, it stood a fairly large cabinet, in which a kettle sat, joined by two mugs and a tray of what had been tea bags, coffee sachets and the various other accessories, but was now replaced with the empty wrappers, teaspoons stained with the remnants of past beverages over his last three nights here, and the odd grain of sugar scattered across the polished oak surface. The last time he had tried to call down to reception to request more milk and sugar, along with a couple more tea bags, we engaged in a rather frustrating exchange with the receptionist, and there was only so many times he could hear her teeth squish down on the soggy gum in her mouth before his temper got the best of him and he gave up completely. 

Erik’s fingers carved patterns into the air, lifting the kettle from its resting place with ease, and tipping it just slightly to release the boiling water into the mug. Then, with his index finger, guided the paperclip he had attached to the tag of the teabag, swirling it a little before removing it and placing it on the teaspoon settled off to the side. He supposed that was all in vain, as he’d have to get up to add the two sachets of milk and one of white sugar, but he granted himself a moment before moving, half-listening to the consistent rambling of news on the TV and trying to identify the cause of the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was if his mind knew something he didn’t. He’d gotten sick of that feeling. Of feeling so...trapped in his own body. His mind keeping secrets from himself. Feeling alienated. He had never quite been right since his imprisonment. Ten years of solitary confinement would tear even the strongest minds apart, and though Erik had done his best to keep his composure, there were always breaking points. Always moments of dread, where phantom figures appeared in his peripherals. Where ingrained words echoed in a damaged mind. 

_She didn’t do this, Erik. You did._

Erik rose after a moment to silence his wandering mind, walking to the table to finish making his tea, drawing the inside of his cheek between his teeth as he tore the tops from the sachets and tried to ignore the slight pressure building in the back of his thoughts. Sure, paranoia was essential in keeping yourself alive, and Erik wouldn’t mind it if it didn’t come in such big doses. Washing over him like an overdose, sending his senses into hypersensitivity as his mind panicked, focussing on the ‘what if’s rather than any rational thought he could come up with. Though Erik had trained his features to remain impassive to whatever was going on beneath his temples. The unreadable look had been practised, like a skill, and was now an instinctual act. There was little thought to his distancing. There was little thought to any of that nowadays. Just demand. 

A defence few could penetrate.

 _Few._

Time was a funny thing; it was fickle, never truly bending in any one direction - especially not in the way people want it to - and it was unexpected. Time never gave up her secrets, never gave forewarning to what was coming. It tied everyone to the edges of their seat’s, anticipating with sweating palms and frantic sweeps of a gaze of what would come next, preparing for the worst-case scenario. Always.

No amount of manipulation, changing things, no, **nothing** could ever make it perfect.

Such a thought always nagged at Charles, never quite sitting _right_ with him; it was an itch you couldn’t quite scratch, just underlining the initial surface of the epidermis, right _there_ , yet also so, right out of reach. Moments, little pockets of time, where this thought tore at the Professor’s chest was insurmountable; countless times he had lost track of anything moving but his own thoughts, things he even would argue that moved faster than time itself sometimes. Not that _that_ ever worked in his favour either, but sometimes it allowed him to be just _one_ step ahead, one instance, one pitstop ahead of someone.

Erik.

Ever since D.C., things were disconnected, nothing fitting into the right places, no chess piece moved correctly, or placed _just_ off of being placed perfectly centre. It was a distraction to Charles, one he couldn’t let go, no matter how much he pled with his own mind, tried to distract himself with work, setting things back in order with Hank’s - gracious - help. None of stopped the inevitable trajectory of his thought, always slipstreaming back to _him_.

A sigh reverberated from the Professor’s chest a moment, oceanic hues opening as he returned himself to the present. Funny, wasn’t it?

For someone who was always surrounded by time, mending it, fixing it; he was always _consumed_ by it, drowning in its endless grains, suffocating.

Teeth gnashed together as his jaw tightened for a momentary second, his gaze looking about the lobby of the hotel with a shroud cynicalness. Not that he was _judging_ , these people, but merely trying to find _the right one_.

There was no chance in any timeline, that walking up to the receptionist and claiming “I’m here to see Erik” will pan out well for him.

Minus the whole obstacle of _walking_ , of course.

Though such an instance wouldn’t pan out for anybody, truly.

So he sat beside one of the cracking maroon chairs the lobby adorned, hands pressed flat to the rests that his wheelchair adorned, fingers adding pressure to the cushion to keep himself steady.

He could do this.

Frankly, because he had no other choice, but uh,

 _No pressure_.

A harsh swallow pushed down the forming lump in Charles’ throat as he silently still surveyed the crowd, gaze switching from one person to another; from the mom of three, clearly trying to conduct a ‘fun’ weekend from home - it was debatable if it was even working -, her hair frazzled and in a splitting hair tie, children attached all but to her hip. Even above the rest of the racket of the room, their whines and needing protests could be heard; to the businessman who obviously had gotten off work nigh several hours ago, suit and demeanour pressed alike a hawk, awaiting it seemed, for a special someone; to the man who had just entered the revolving doors, a harsh aroma of cigarettes plastered to the fabric of his too expensive blazer, the second-hand smoke and ash tarnishing the golden hawk pendant he had pinned to the pocket, such which was obviously hiding a stain; to finally the receptionist herself. Even from his distance away he could tell this wasn’t her first job - the second one in line, most likely - such which was made obvious by the snapping of her gum - he could smell the peppermint on her breath from where he sat - the sloppiness in her bookkeeping.

There it was; the _bookkeeping_.

Fingers curled along the cushion of his wheelchair’s armrest, one hand entirely twitching. His gaze didn’t break from hers as he raised a hand to his temple, brushing his index and middle fingers across the smooth area as he had done so many times before, the gesture feeling like muscle memory; though to any passerby, it would merely look like the man was sweeping away the straying chestnut tresses that disobeyed the rest of his hair, falling to veil his visage.

He had always argued if anyone tried to question him, he could plead the fifth for migraines.

Wouldn’t be a surprise, truly.

The trajectory of his sight was steady upon the woman and her thrifted - albeit cutely styled - outfit, watching closely as one of the blonde - clearly dyed - curls bounced as she typed on her computer, checking in the cigarette cologned man.

He honed in on the tapping of sharp acrylic nails to the keyboard, the distinct _tck tck tck_ of her types, matched perfectly with the aggressive _tch tch_ of her slamming the apex of an index finger into the backspace - something which was withering due to overuse - as she made a mistake - “Last names! So many crazy combinations nowadays, don’tcha think?” laughed through the snap of her drying gum, the flavour saturating her palate and breath, to which combated and thankfully saved her senses from the atrocious waft of cigarettes clinging to the man alike a smog - the computer’s blue-tinted screen - all computers were made in RGB, screens reflected colour based upon their level of blue refraction from light - reflecting brightly in her caramel optics, which were as dull as her love for this job.

A disappointment, truly.

As her gaze panned back over to the screen, Charles concentrated, feeling his teeth slowly clamp upon his tongue and cheek, holding him hostage to his own body as he fought for sight.

The receptionist handed the keys - room 435B - to the man from the silver metal hook of the Statue of Liberty keychain they were attached too, the metal hanging on for dear life upon the edge of a studded nail.

Another snap of her gum and the man was gone, heavy footsteps - made from Derby’s custom made for a man of 5’9 - moving towards the elevator.

A flick of the wrist, a click of the mouse.

And there was the guest catalogue.

Erik’s name wasn’t hard to find upon the list, and for several reasons.

Charles could read things fast, only needing quick synapses of seconds to get the information he needed.

And because he had chased Erik enough to know the curve of the E in his signature.

423A.

_Gotcha, old friend._

Charles released the tension in his body with a ragged exhale, the breath shuddering from his tiers as his eyes blinked rapidly for a few minutes, trying to ground himself back into the chair. 

Into his own _body_.

The hand lowered from his temple upon another exhale, brows coming to knit at the heart of his brow bone.

It was now.

Now that he’d be reunited with the man who he always fought for, always _believed_ in.

Even after everything.

A sigh rested in Charles’ chest alike the heavy weight of his own thoughts, the pulsing chasm of that sitting upon his consciousness like a blaring reminder of everything.

He brought himself to the elevator, a shaking hand moving to press the button from the fourth floor.

Cigarette lingered in the trapped compartment of the elevator. It was almost like a scent trail, guiding Charles to Erik.

Time was funny, wasn’t it? Never forewarning you.

The soothing music in the metal box of the elevator - an instrumental to some popular song or another - was doing anything _but_ soothe Charles, his right eye twitching as he tried to drown it out.

Though, without anyone else in the elevator -

He followed the smoke trail, envisioning the steps of those expensive and cleanly shined Derby shoes, moving across the maroon and navy paisley-patterned carpet. Though the man’s steps kept going far beyond where Charles needed to go, stopping his mental trek at 423.

Erik.

The sense of the other was a familiar feeling Charles would never get used to, a small gasp drawing to his lips as he raised his hand again, fingers nestling against their secondary home of his temple.

Eyes closed as he gave just a gentle push, the froth of a wave lapping at the newly dried grains of a shore. It was all he needed, truly.

_“Hello again, old friend.”_

And the elevator dinged, opening its arms to the fourth floor. 

There it was. That feeling he’d been pushing down. The distant familiarity swelling all too quickly for Erik’s liking. His headshot to the door in an instant, as if expecting to see the other there. 

_No,_ Erik scalded. No, he wouldn’t be here. It was one of his abilities, though he hadn’t entirely expected the other to find him. He’d been careful, but perhaps even his mere presence in New York had tipped the other off.

Still, he doubted the other would be here in person, though the hairs began to rise on his body as he felt the elevator rise and stop on his floor from down the hall. And, despite the voice and term of endearment being all too familiar to him, he still found his response leaving his lips rather confused and panicked.

“Charles?” The name tumbled from chapped tiers, azure hues studying the door almost accusingly, as if staring hard enough would make the other appear, though that’s not what he was sure he wanted. He had been running, after all. Running from Charles more than anyone. He didn’t have his helmet anymore and that made him _vulnerable._

Erik couldn’t stand the thought of it.

The door’s lock flicked to the side nevertheless, and the chain slid from its confines and dropped to swing gently over the door frame, though his mental walls began to rise, trying to rouse the memories of their training long ago. Closing his mental doors to the other, and padlocking them. 

Charles continued concentrating, focusing on nothing but the connection between himself and 

Erik.

 _One_ of the connections, anyway.

Hand to temple, it faltered, falling back into his lap with a muffled slap, the other hand moving to secure it, forming a cupping bridge.

Time was funny like that.

 _Always had to be a step ahead_.

423 came into view quickly; the hall having been separated into two sections, Erik’s room resting upon the right side, right where the cigarette trail had led him.

Charles bit at his tongue for a moment, lulling it over.

So many different scenarios flashed through his mind then, brows twitching into a worried crinkle, azure hues glittering underneath the sharp hallway light beaming from its circular home in the ceiling as if it were a spotlight.

The Professor planned on the other building up those walls.

Erik was Erik, after all.

A hand rose, hesitating right before the knob. A moment’s pause, fingers suddenly clenching into fists as he fought past the doubts curating into his mind.

A blink and his hand was securing the knob.

The thought of it being locked didn’t even pass Charles’ mind then - not truly, anyway; semantics - not as he twisted it, releasing it and the door with a flick of his wrist, only marginally surprised at its opening release.

All of that painted across his visage as he looked at Erik, relief captured upon the creases of furrowed brows. 

Once he’d heard silence in return, he pulled the mug between his hands, paranoia clouding his rationality. He instantly scoured his mind for any sight of Charles, body drifting to stand before the large glass panels without him even willing it to, absentmindedly staring at the traffic below, though his mind was in a different place entirely.

No, he hadn’t heard the click of the door’s handle as it allowed the other access, and he had only partly registered the movement of the metal on it, though it was more of a slight pressure pooling in the back of his mind than anything that could catch his attention. No, His paranoia had taken care of that. 

His body was outlined by the intruding sunlight, coating his slender frame in a gentle golden hue, highlighting the curves and crevices of the tight-fitted clothes he had chosen, and leaving a shadow of him on the greying cream carpet. His body was tense, shoulders raised slightly, forearms tensed only a little to keep his grasp on the mug. His head was tilted slightly downwards, eyebrows knitted into a sharp frown of concentration, tiers ever so slightly agape to allow for gentle intakes and releases of breath between them. The dark shadows contoured the sharp features of his face turned away from the prying sun, darkening the slight stubble he had allowed to grow, and the bags under glazed-over, frozen orbs. 

And for a moment, an oh so precious moment, Charles studied him, taking him in as if he’d never seen the other before. Looking at him like he was the only other thing in the world.

That near anguished look stayed captive against Charles’ countenance for following beats, silence blanketing the space between then like dawn’s dew.

It was a moment that Charles would on to for a long time, clinging to its innocence, nothing tainting it, no one crushing it, altering it.

This moment was his.

He stayed in the mouth of the doorframe of the room with a quiet preserve, still fighting the desire to speak. But he knew even if it wasn’t this moment or the next, he’d had to. And it was better than having Erik speak first.

 _Always a step ahead_.

“Finding anything interest worthy out in the open, old friend?” At the mere first syllable that was spoken of the other’s sentence, Erik’s head shot to the side rather violently, eyes widened in a sudden panic that comes with finding an uninvited guest peering in from your hotel door. The tray rattled from its position between them, the teaspoons atop it had shaken from Erik’s sudden burst of panic. Instinctual, perhaps. To instantly resort to some form of violence. Though he had willed it to stop as quickly as it had begun, leaving the hovering spoons to clink into each other and the tray below, one jolting and falling from the cabinet into the carpet below. The cup had jolted in his hands too, the warm beverage sloshing and spilling over the edges of the china mug, coating his left hand and leaving a few new stains on the carpet. 

Erik studied the other with an unsure gaze, which quickly smoothed out to that impassive look he always held, head giving a gentle shake side to side.

“You often find yourself entering hotel rooms unannounced?”

What the hell was Charles doing here? Nevertheless, how had he gotten here and found him so easily? He was sure he had only been in his mind for mere seconds, and although Charles was a man of miracles, there was absolutely no way he could get from the school to here in that time. Let alone alone _._

And why? 

Erik would never understand him. 

Charles was silent for a few beats before a soft laugh came to his lips; an invisible force snagging his shoulders in an upward pluck before they went to idly sitting upon the skeleton of his body, perpendicular to his neck.

“Unannounced? I thought I had made my presence quite obvious, Erik.” His words were, although partial credit in the effort section, moderately teasing, a bit light upon his palate.

With all he had done to _get_ there, it was needed.

Azure hues were still steady on the other, unwavering even as the instruments and silverware clanked to the ground, landing upon the ground with a muffled _thud_. It didn’t stop Charles from actually entering the room, however, a slow and steady trek as his chair ushered him into the room.

Ushering him into the same space as the other. 

Charles bit at his cheek as he continued to look at the other biting back the words in his mouth.

Issuing a fight right from the gates might not be best in his cards. 

Erik drew in a sharp breath, forcing a chuckle at the other’s teasing words, walking to set the mug down on the small coffee table situated in the corner of the room. He had to choose his words carefully now the other had free reign over his mind and, despite all the speeches he gave about unspoken boundaries and respect, there was always the worry in the back of his mind that Charles would decide that Erik’s crimes revoked him of those same privileges and go rummaging around.

“I had assumed your message had been sent with the aid of Cerebro. A warning more than a few minutes away from arrival would perhaps have been more ideal.”

His eyes settled over the other properly, taking in a second to let it settle in that the other was actually here. It felt strange to see him again, and Erik couldn’t decide whether he was happy to see the other or not.

“Not to mention that all your message said was ‘hello’.” 

“To my experience, such is what you say in greeting, is it not?” Charles’ head tilted a bit, gaze still unwavering from the other.

How could it? There was a part of Charles that was afraid if he even so much as looked away from the other, he’d vanish again.

Charles didn’t want to risk that, not with him so close, so _right here_.

The professor wasn’t sure what he’d do if he lost Erik again. He couldn’t risk it, even with Logan’s knowledge the two would end up side by side in some timeline’s future.

He wanted to ensure that timeline was _this_ one.

The hands upon the armrests of his chair shook as they curled into fists, gently trembling as he forced to keep his mind even, keep himself steady. 

Erik decided not to respond, azure orbs looking over his mug before finally settling upon the other once more, followed by a deep sigh. 

“Why are you here, Charles?” Straight to the point. Erik had no time for these senseless games. These moments of pretending nothing was wrong between them. They hadn’t exactly left on good ground the last time they were in each other's presences. 

The German moved to sit on the edge of the bed, closer to the other but still enough distance. Safe distance. He let his legs fall apart, one elbow rested on his left knee, leaning forward. His other hand found its way into his hair, carding through his slightly overgrown strands. “How did you find me?” 

Charles was silent for a moment, mulling over the other’s question. He wasn’t sure if he even _wanted_ to tell Erik that; what would happen if he happened to leave again? Charles wouldn’t be able to do this again, he knew Erik was smart.

“Receptionist told me your room number.” Beat around the bush, yet still suffice in answering his question. He wasn’t going to give up the answer to that question that easily.

Not until he secured Erik wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

 _Always a step ahead_. 

Erik immediately knew this wasn’t the case. He would’ve died long ago if he’d used his real name for room reservations in countries where he’s wanted. He took a deep breath, his chest rising steadily with the action, before his hand dropped back in his lap, eyes flickering over the other’s frame. A nice contrast to the dreary carpet below, he’ll admit, though just as hard to look at, in this moment. To meet his prying gaze.

He took the other for the moment, expecting him to say more, before his patience wore thin. This meeting was under his control, after all. He could leave if he wanted to. And, _oh,_ how he wanted to. He wasn’t going to entertain these roundabout games. He didn’t truly think he could.

So he made to stand, gaze directed to his duffel bag across the room. Almost as a warning to the other. 

_No more mind games._

Charles wasn’t stupid; it didn’t take his gaze to follow the other to know what Erik was thinking, what he was implying.

Charles didn’t need to read his mind to know what he was thinking.

Yet, he entertained the gesture, looking over to the duffel bag, which he knew something of the sort would greet him.

A sigh fell from his chest, swirling like a dragon’s breath in the ribbed castle of his chest.

Eyes closed for a moment as Charles thought, his mind becoming far too overpopulated with things; he was becoming overwhelmed. 

He had to focus. Not to fuck this up. Eyes opening, they wandered back to Erik, the azure steady upon the other mutant. “I’ve been trying to track you since D.C., to find you.” Still wasn’t _much_ of an answer, but a chiseled trajectory towards truth than the other had been. 

Erik hummed, the noise resonating from deep within his chest, allowing his gaze to finally return to the other. It still wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear but it was close enough. Good enough. He had more pressing questions.

“Why?” What do you want from me? Why can’t I get rid of you? _Why can’t I get you out of my head?_ All questions he’d wanted to ask for months. Questions he couldn’t bring himself to answer truthfully. 

“What do you mean _why_ , Erik? Think about it for a moment. Take the time and think outside of your own orbit for just a _moment_ ; then try to see if you still need to ask that question.” His words were rigid - rather arguably _cold_ \- as he addressed the other, his hands on his armrests trying to keep him composed.

Though even as much as he tried, his visage betrayed him as it always did; the wavering of his brows twitching, furrowing into near anguish, the quivering of his lips as he tried to keep them quivering, the ragged exhale slithering from between his tiers like the soft whistling of a breeze.

It betrayed the _emotion_ across his words, the sentiments behind his actions.

The fuel behind the fact he was sitting here in this moment, right now in front of Erik. 

His gaze shifted into a lot more of a harsher one at the other’s words, noting the coldness to them. Though he laughed at it. The small huffed-out breath was released as he shook his head, walking back over to his table to grasp his hands around the cup once more.

“Hello to you too, old friend.” He grumbled a little snidely, bringing the cup to his lips to drink down the quickly cooling liquid. He did take a second to think about it, though his mind instantly went to some sort of vengeance. It was, after all, what Erik would have done were he in the other’s shoes. Though Erik had never believed the other could be capable of killing, perhaps it was an underestimation on his own part. Charles was powerful, after all, and the things he’d been through were enough to break anyone’s moral high ground. 

His hand trembled gently as he rested the cup down, though it was very slight, and no other feature of his stoic appearance would give it away. 

A deep breath, head tilting only slightly as he spoke to the other again, eyebrows twisted into a gentle frown. 

“If you truly believe that what you’re about to do is necessary then I won’t do anything to stop you,” Erik spoke quietly, finally willing his gaze back onto the other again. For the most part, it held the same impassiveness as always, though there was something else. Something deeper. Regret?

“I only ask that you respect me enough to do it quickly.” 

Silence. Such a state followed the other’s words for a moment. Then two. Several more passed as Charles tried to wrap his head around the other’s words, trying to make sense of the words and syllables echoing in his mind like a reverting clink of metal in a completely emptied room, like a pin falling to the floor.

_Huh?_

Charles’ visage evened out then, smoothing into a suave look of confusion, thankfully, an anchor point for his features; the last thing he wanted was to seem _weak_ in the other’s eyes.

He had always been afraid of that, of Erik seeing him as a _lesser_ mutant.

“Erik, what are you on about?” Head tilted slightly to the side, Charles tried to get inside his head just from the mere looks of him; not _literally_ of course - he respected Erik’s boundaries as such - yet he tried to search the other’s visage for an answer to a question he wasn’t quite he knew in the first place. 

He looked back up to the other as he spoke again, the confusion on his face only deepening. Charles did look completely lost in this moment, so he can only assume the other truly didn’t have a clue what Erik was talking about. Toying with prey was much more Erik’s thing than Charles’, after all.

“You-...Nevermind it.” Though tension slipped away from him subconsciously, letting his body relax just a little more.

“Why are you here, Charles? Entertain me.” Erik tried again, more curious than before. Surely the other wasn’t foolish enough to try to get him to return to the mansion? 

Was it _truly_ foolish? If a fruitless endeavour, surely in person would give Charles’ point a _bit_ of leeway.

Or so, he hoped, anyway.

The confusion still danced across his visage with glittering spots, opaque colours staining his azure hues as he tried to figure out the puzzle of a man that was laid before him.

“I came here for _you,_ Erik. Why else would I be here?” Then a pause, something clicking in the professor’s mind. What Erik had been referring to from before. Did Erik think Charles was here to _kill_ him? Surely that couldn’t the case, did Erik think Charles deranged?

Brows continued knotting at his brow, increasing the idents across his forehead like deepening divots. The situation was already slipping through his fingers like kinetic sand.

He had to get it back on track.

He nodded a little and moved to walk past the other, standing at the kettle, gently turning over one of the other cups and pouring the water into it, teabag joining soon after as he stirred it, wracking his brain to remember how the other liked it. Erik allowed the silence to fill the room as he thought of how to tackle this, eventually shaking his head and turning to hand the other the drink. 

“Not for a game of chess?” His tone was heavy with faux disappointment, an eyebrow-raising upward as he moved back to perch on the end of the mattress once more.

Knowing the other wasn’t here to kill him was a start, at least. 

At the other’s words, Charles leaned back in his seat, his head giving a few paces of a shake, a clipped laugh brewing to the back of his throat, the sound rumbling to his lips with only a small hiccup, drying the sound in the Professor’s oesophagus.

Even if the other was merely teasing, a mock feigned act, it still didn’t stop Charles from being marginally amused at such a thing. Always clinging to the words Erik spoke, no matter their delivery.

He just wished the other would _listen_ to him.

“Not yet, old friend, I’m afraid not.” A ghost of a smile graced his features, haunting the glittering look in his eyes, so stagnantly upon Erik and his movements. 

“A shame, though I don’t have a chessboard to hand anyway,” Erik responded, giving a brief sweep of his gaze over the room as if looking for anything even similar, though he knew the room was nearly bare. 

Erik didn’t know how to approach this. What to say or do that wouldn’t start an argument, but also wouldn’t allow the other to leave so quickly, such as a curt dismissal would. Perhaps he could entertain the idea. Buy more seconds of the other’s attention with such, though he was already set on his answer. He had been since Raven had torn his helmet off and left him at the other’s mercy in that field.

“What do you want of me? Need my help with something? It is my opinion that galavanting around with a mutant wanted for the attempted assassinations of two presidents may cause you more trouble than I’m worth, though.” 

At that, Charles finally broke their gazes, his head tilting to the side. His visage smoothed out impassively for a moment as his eyes closed, trying to dismiss Erik’s words, but it wasn’t long before that signature furrow came back to his visage.

His mouth opened as if he wanted to speak, yet it closed again, pressing into a harder and firmer line. Then it opened once more. Closed. Such a cycle repeated itself before a sigh was brewing outwardly from his agape lips.

“I don’t want your _help_ , Erik.” a pause, his words slow and meticulously spoken. His gaze craned back to the other, knowing full well what he would say to Charles’ following words. Yet such a thing didn’t hinder Charles from saying them anyway, determined to at least get his words through the other’s thick skull.

 _Figuratively,_ of course.

“I want you back at the mansion.” 

_I want you back at the mansion._ The words ripped through Erik’s body, though he’d expected they would be coming. _I want you back_ . I want, not we want. Not we need. Not you need to come back. No. Charles himself _wanted_ him back there. Perhaps he was reading too much into this. Perhaps Charles had just said that to try to convince him. To make him think that this was much more personal than it was. But then, if the other truly didn’t care enough, why would he bother to come down here at all?

“Charles, you and I both know that’s a terrible idea.”

So much could go wrong. Not to mention the students would most probably recognise him. His face had been all over the news. He could ruin another aspect of Charles’ life, just by being there. He wouldn’t do that to him again. He just had to convince Charles that this wasn’t what he wanted, which was going to prove difficult. 

Such words mulled over Charles’ mind for a few beats, his silence answering Erik again as a precursor to words he had to think of; something he had to figure out.

“There have been worse ideas.” He settles on, a hum sounding behind his words. His voice was even, gaze was even as he studied the other, tried to keep it a step ahead, tried to give himself still the advantage with the final notion he knew that he had to _get Erik back_.

“You can’t tell me living on the run has been _fun_ for you old friend?” He added after a moment, seeing if he could buy himself more time.

What would he do if Erik said no? Left him here alone in the room?

There were some worst-case scenarios Charles had to figure out before they became realities. 

“There have been far better ones, too.” Erik countered, watching the other curiously. Watching him think. Plan his next moves carefully. He’d seen similar expressions amidst their chess matches. All their conversations had grown to be like this. Each move thoroughly thought out and calculated. The freedom of random conversation slightly lost between them, now. It had been since Cuba. Since that godforsaken beach. 

“No, it hasn’t. But it’s nothing I’m not used to, Charles.” Erik reasoned, a slender eyebrow raising once more. 

“What do you suggest I do? I show up at the mansion and then what?” Perhaps if he could get the other to properly think this through, he would see sense. 

And for a moment, Charles did just that. He could picture the nervous tremors through the students, _Logan_ , an undeniable ripple surely would tear through the school. But Charles was _here_ , in this current moment, for a _reason._

Hank had known this too when he saw the other off when Charles had spoken to him about halting the medication.

Part of the reason why he wasn’t standing here today.

Even as Charles thought about it, his thorough care for it still laid unmatched to the thought of having the other by his side again. Of having the companion he knew the most fighting on his side once more.

Because right now? Charles wasn’t sure where Erik stood.

Not after D.C., everything with Raven. Hell, even Logan and Peter. Despite the fact they had broken Erik out of prison, Charles wasn’t sure where Erik laid anymore; in conjunction to things generally, and in conjunction to _himself_.

To _them_.

“Let me handle the mansion, Erik. Things can always be figured out. But I can’t get to that situation if the two of us are still busy arguing _here_.” 

Erik had found himself a little lost after the altercation in D.C. He’d mainly focussed on running, not allowing himself to think about what he wanted now. That goal was always in the back of his mind. Equality for the mutants. Liberation. It was always tainting his plans and strategies. It was always _around_ , though he hadn’t taken any deliberate actions towards finding out where next. 

“That school is your pride and joy. I will not let you ruin it by trying to drag me into it, Charles. You know how quickly things could go wrong.” 

Charles scoffed at that, shaking his head. “No. Well, yes, you’re right. That school _is_ my pride and joy, but sometimes I can’t do things to the fullest on my own.” A pause, measured by the soft intake of breath from the Professor, a hand raising,

The side of his index finger ran along the bottom rung of his lips in a pondering stance, mulling over the chances and outcomes of the next plausible words.

At this point, what else did he have to lose? He already had lost Erik, and he was here to try and _get him_ **_back_ **.

“More importantly, Erik, _you’re_ my pride and joy. Someone who’s been by my side more times than I can count. Why do you think I lugged myself all the way here? Instead of just getting into your head? Or into the head of the man who thought cigarettes were a sensible cologne replacement? I came here, unarmed, by _myself_ ; Hank and Logan are watching the school. Because _I_ came here for _you_.” 

Erik stared in shock, a little taken aback by the other’s words. After all, they’d been close, and Erik had felt things for him. Hell, still felt things for him, but he hadn’t expected it to come out so soon. Like this…

Though many wouldn’t consider ten years ‘soon’, he supposes.

Erik fell dangerously silent, a gentle blush rising to his features, dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears a nice, light rose colour. No. This revelation sent a panic through him. If it was a one-sided love, that would be fine. But Erik was destructive. People near him get hurt. Charles had _already_ been at the receiving end of that once. Erik couldn’t allow that to happen again.

“I hate to tell you that you’ve got a horrible taste in men.” As quickly as the joy had spread across his features had the distress replaced it. He hated to do this. He didn’t want to, and perhaps he wasn’t hiding that well enough. Each sentence was tense and hesitantly spoken, and it was clear it wasn’t what he wanted to say, but what he believed. 

“You should stop wasting your time on such a lost cause like me, Charles.” 

Charles tried to seem unaffected by the other’s words, tried not to let them seep into the castle of his mind.

“You should’ve said that some odd decade or so ago. But now? Bit late for that.” His head titled as he spoke, the hand at his mouth dropping, lingering at the heart of his chin before falling back down lax upon the chair’s armrest.

Of course, he’d deflect it with slight humour.

“If you were a lost cause Erik, do you think I’d be here? That in some timeline, two old men versions of us built everything from the ground up? Do you _truly_ think I see nothing good in you?” A breaking pause, words beginning to choke upon Charles’ palate. However swallowing, he continued,

“You taught me how to find the special things in people, look for _who_ they are, not what people make them out to be. You’re foolish if you ever thought for a moment I wouldn’t look at you the very same way.” 

“That was a different timeline, Charles. We aren’t on that path anymore.” Erik grumbled though the other’s final words made him tense. He shook his head and drew in a sharp breath, gaze falling to his hands as he twiddled his thumbs. 

“You’re too optimistic, Charles. You always have been.” Though that’s the only fault he could pull from the other’s words. He was unsure of what to say. For someone who could give speeches and inspire others like a preacher with words of power and meaning, he couldn’t ever find such words for Charles. Not like this. 

Erik swallowed but looked back up at the other once more, with a steel expression which he hadn’t intended to be quite so sharp. He needed to get a hold of himself. Since when had he allowed himself to be so vulnerable around the other?

“This isn’t what you want, Charles. I’m not what you want, I’m just familiar ground. Stop hanging onto me, You’ll be a lot better for it.”

Charles took the time then, to study Erik; not like one of his students or pupils, and not like he was scouting for a mutant, but just studying _Erik_ . _Him_ . No words came to his palate in an immediate response to the other’s words, nothing but a low hum in the back of his throat, but even he knew that wasn’t sufficient. But it would have to work as a placeholder for the moment, an indicator he _had, in fact_ , heard everything the other said.

And oh, did Charles hear him loud and clear.

After a moment of time passing - thought Charles wasn’t even sure for a moment time _was_ passing, merely lost in his abstraction running wild in his mind.

He leaned forward a bit in his chair then, bringing an arm to rest upright upon its rest, elbow becoming a swivelling pivotal anchor point. Charles’ chin fell into the hand, resting upon the curve of his knuckles.

“You know, its always funny to me, how people can look at someone else, and claim to know what’s going on inside their head, the brain that governs their entire being. Tell me, Erik, what symptoms do I exude that give you any inkling of the words you try to defend yourself with? In any of our time together, where has any displeasure been?” His words were suave, a singular tick of a smooth octave.

But even so, his gaze never left Erik’s, never stopped _observing_ him, finding the little crack in the dam he knew existed, even just a sliver, would be all he needs.

He needed to work his way into the other’s head. 

Erik watched as the other shifted his seated position to rest his head on his hands, Erik’s own elbows settling on his knees, hand outstretched and clasped together before him, his grip _tight._ His attention was piqued once more as the other began to speak again, a gentle frown settling on his features at the other’s words. A chuckle left him though, the look of bewilderment akin to one he may hold if the other had just stood and slapped him in the face. Amusement shortly followed, as if he couldn’t believe his words.

“Oh, do you mean other than the beach? Or just a few months ago in D.C? Or the plane on the way to Paris. Or Paris, for that matter?” Erik listed them off without much thought. It didn’t need anymore. He thought about them enough to have to wrack his brain for them. He shook his head and bit down on the inside of his cheek gently with his canine, trying desperately to push those memories away before they grew too loud.

Though he still managed to keep his stoic impassiveness intact, there was something in his mind giving way. As he focussed on blocking out the memories, there was that slight crack in the outer defences. The slight break giving Charles a way in, if he could keep him calm enough, or rather the opposite, to get inside. 

Charles noticed the crack with ease, gentle leaning ever so slightly forward more - almost as if he was marginally swaying a bit, physique restless - trying to gently push at the crack, to try and usher it further.

But he had to do this smartly; any indication he was doing anything to Erik, and the other would hightail it out of there; or at least, spark an argument.

And that was the last resort Charles wanted.

“All of those are in the past, Erik. We still have time ahead of us to amend that, to _fix_ everything. Why else would I be here?” Though even as he spoke the words, Charles knew that Erik would say in regards to that.

 _Revenge_. To get back at the other for it all, every little piece.

But Charles didn’t need that, didn’t _want_ that. What he wanted was the man sitting before him, building his walls up.

The professor always said revenge was a dish best served not at all. This was no different. 

He caught it. Erik wasn’t stupid, and even with that, he’d felt this before. It was such an odd feeling that even the slightest slip up on the other he’d caught. Erik’s azure gaze sharpened, piercing into the other with a different kind of shock. A panic. And then anger. So much of it as he forced the other out with overwhelming fear.

“Get _out,_ Charles.” The German snapped, standing rather furiously, raising a hand to draw his duffel bag towards him, swinging it over his shoulder and without a second thought, began to head to the door.

“We’re done. I’m done. Stay away from me, Charles! I won’t warn you again.” 

_Shit_.

Charles had to think, and he had to think fast. His hand moved - the one who’s elbow so graciously held Charles’ skull up - to manoeuvre his chair backwards, almost completely blocking the mini hallway towards the door.

He had to buy himself some time, between the small damn of a window in Erik’s mind and the other about to leave the room. Leave Charles’ once chance at getting him back right in the dust.

If there was one thing in Charles’ life he didn’t wish to turn into a blunder: it was this.

“Wait wait, Erik! Just listen to me,” a hand outstretched towards the other, azure hues finding the other, frantically trying to lure him to lock their gazes, “ _Please_.”

Buying himself time; he had to do it and do it fast. Not that he wanted to push past the other’s boundaries, to break those built up walls and dams, but it wasn’t dwindling down to the fact Charles was shit luck out of options. 

He slowed as the other appeared before him, frowning darkly. His hand instinctively went to move Charles’ metal wheelchair aside with his powers, though something made him go rigid, and the gentle pull on the thing ceased.

“I’ve _listened,_ Charles. Everything you talk about is unrealistic. Fantasies your hope has created for you. I won’t be a part of them.” Erik tensed, eventually catching the other’s gaze a little hesitantly. He was panicking, that was for sure. His whole body was in flight mode, bordering on fight mode if necessary, though Erik didn’t enjoy fighting Charles. 

“Now _move,_ before I make you.” 

And yet, Charles still didn’t move; his own rigid in its seated stance, making his body and chair an obstacle for the other. “Erik,” Charles tried again, his left hand wavering, hesitating as it fought the urge to move to touch his temple.

Instead, he tried to keep Erik’s gaze, fought for the reins of it, to keep them plastered to one another. He had to wiggle his way in.

It was like a very specific scientific equation; the answer was right there, but the funnel to get to it was very narrow. It was like a box in a room, captured entirely by chains. And it was a matter of finding the pliers to get those chains untangled and undone.

“It’s not unrealistic. Do you think I’d be here on mere _speculation?_ I am not that foolish, _old friend_.” 

Erik took a deep breath, watching the other with a piercing gaze, trying to figure out what to do. He should just force the other to move with his powers and leave, but there was something so disgusting about that idea. Forcing the other to move around like some sort of useless object, especially when he’d put him such a position. No. That held him back.

“Charles.” He muttered back warningly, looking over the other for a long moment before twisting his torso to look behind him. The window. He could break out through that. His hand rose, grasping onto the kettle and lifting it into the air, before he suddenly turned his body and, with force, forced the metal object right through the glass, watching as the shards fell forward and onto the street below... And then he _ran_ for it. 

Charles’ initial reaction was directed towards the kettle; the sound of it piquing his attention most, the shattering class completely smashing through the humming silence of the room. Though despite the shriek of the glass, it didn’t halt completely his attention towards the other, head still swiftly snapping to the side as a blur of colour passed his vision in a streak, a surprised sound coming to his tiers.

“Erik,” Charles started to call towards the other, still grasping at verbal straws for the other’s attention. He didn’t wish for things to be this way, for things to pan out the way they were, yet; there wasn’t much that could be done about the situation.

He just hoped this would work out the way he had planned this.

Well, not _planned_ , but he just hoped that in the end, he’d have what he came here for. _Who_ he came for.

 _Erik_.

His hand wavered, still hesitant, but he didn’t have much else of a choice here. Fingers to temple, he sighed, trying to still find that little break in the dam, the little opening that was still there.

_Erik._

This was a last resort, something that was an option once all _other_ options were off the table. 

He knew how the other was about Charles’ power. He knew. But _what other choice did Charles have?_

He felt his body beginning to grow heavy, and slowed to a stop right before the edge of the window, feeling the wind brush past his body into the room. He couldn’t risk trying to get away with the other in his head like this.

“Charles, Get out!” He growled now, leaning back on his feet, turning his head to look at the other over his shoulder. What the hell was he doing?! The other was unpredictable at the best of times but to risk his life in a last-ditch effort to stop him running? He must be serious this time. Really serious. It was enough to panic him even more. If Charles was this determined then, truly, could he get away? 

A quivering breath left Charles’ parred tiers, his azure hues sharp upon the other; unrelenting, keeping their gazes locked. It was like a chain, keeping them connecting, _forcing_ Erik into place. It was _aggressive_ , wasn’t intending to harm, no of course not, but Charles didn’t have any other options.

Or time to think of any.

 _Please. I just need you to_ **_listen_ **.

Teeth gritted as the fingers to Charles’ temple pressed further against his temple, the feeling of the skin moving along the bone from the pressure sliding underneath the Professor’s digits. But he was getting there, pushing a bit.

That dam, that little break in the levee. It wasn’t much, but it was better than solid walls.

He kept that gaze, feeling the entrance get bigger and bigger, allowing himself entrance to the other’s mind.

It never got easier for Charles of course, to be inside someone’s _head_ ; it was like a vast room, nothing but _void_ ; but it wasn’t _empty_ , but there was just so much _space_ between everything, floating in this endless palace. It was like a hotel, with endless floors, the elevator just going up, up, _up._

But everything was connected, some sort of connecting system between things, to the _heart_ of the matter; clustered, tangled. They were protecting Erik - whether bound by himself or subconsciously tangled was truly a toss-up - keeping him inside this steel castle he could keep the outside world from.

To keep _Charles_ from.

A singular blink of Charles’ eyes as he concentrated, trying to keep himself focused, trying not to focus too much upon the aftermath, the ‘what if’s’ of the situation. He knew what he wanted to do: and he was going to do it.

And it wasn’t even for himself - entirely, anyway - and not even for the school or the others: but to protect Erik. There was no way he could continue to keep running, to keep this up. One way or another, he’d slip up, something would happen, someone would recognize him before he had an escape route.

It wasn’t an ‘if’: that, _that_ was inevitable.

 _“Please_.” Words were still spoken to the other through the connection, Charles’ physique nearly utterly still.

He was buying himself time, making his way to start to untangle those chains. Going willy-nilly would be the final nail in the coffin, breaking any chance he had left; he had to be strategic, be _smart_ about this. 

Erik could feel him in there. Prying around. The gentle pressure reigniting memories in rapid succession as the other grazed past them, only to be ripped away seconds after they started. 

He was truly frozen now, paralysed by the other in his mind, eyes blown wide with fear as he realised just what it was the other had found. What he was trying to do. 

_Charles, don’t._


End file.
